The Weasley's Extra Year
by zeldafire
Summary: Now that the new year has begun, Harry and Fred will have more than just Ron to deal with. But they're problems may be a little bit closer to home than they think. FredHarry, George? my apologies for the inadaquit summary
1. A Brother's Consoling Words

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter or anything. All I own is this sad sorry excuse of a plotline (which really isn't that bad.)

**Summary: **Don't really have much of one to give, because I don't want to ruin anything! Starts out Harry/Fred George, (YES! SLASH!) but that'll change and you'll see how. So it's their lives and everything. Completely AU! Takes place during year 6. I'm pretty much forgetting that Voldemort even exists in this one. Just ignore the evil madman in the corner kids; he only talks to snakes anyway.

**Point of View:** really, it's supposed to be 3rd person omniscient, but it's mostly Fred and George's thoughts.

OOOOO

Fred lay staring at the exposed-wood ceiling in the growing light, his hands resting beneath his flaming hair. George lay a few feet away, his light snoring competing with the chirping of the early morning birds. Fred sighed, rolled over, and watched as the sun began to drive away the shadows in the yard. There was no use in trying to fall back asleep.

Fred wondered what the date was as he watched the lawn-gnomes scurry back to their holes to escape the sunlight. The 25th, of July; six days before Harry's birthday he remembered. And yet he still hadn't anything as a present. Fred couldn't figure what to get the black haired boy, now that he'd finally decided that he _would_ get him something. This whole thing with Harry was driving Fred crazy.

Harry had shown up at The Burrow on the first of July, eager as ever to spend the summer holidays away from his retched aunt and uncle. He still had the same tousled hair, the same brilliant green eyes behind black-framed glasses, and the same light olive complexion. But to Fred, there had been something different about the teen, something beyond his physical appearance and even the personality Fred had known for six years. Fred had deliberated over it for the past three and a half weeks, and he still could not identify whatever it was. And he just couldn't get Harry out of his head.

Fred hadn't told anyone, least of all Harry. He had considered asking George about it, but at the last moment he'd copted out and told he waiting twin the "it was nothing." Maybe he'd try again to breach the subject.

And so he still wasn't sure of his own feelings, knew he wanted to give Harry a birthday present, but didn't know what he should get him. This would be the first time he'd be giving a gift that didn't have both his and George's names attached to it, and wasn't a firework or an item from their soon-to-be-joke shop. He really didn't want to mess this up.

There was a loud crash from downstairs, in the kitchen it sounded like, and Fred heard his mother curse. George pulled out of his sleep and propped himself up to rest on his elbows. Fred rolled over at the sound of the creaking bedsprings and watched his brother blink the sleep from his eyes. "Wha' was 'tha?" George mumbled, still half asleep.

"Sounds like Mum's having trouble with the dishes again," Fred replied, getting up and walking to the dresser. He opened the top drawer, fished out a blue t-shirt, and pulled it over his head, covering his bare chest. "I'm surprised it woke you, you can usually sleep through a pack of Fillibuster's bombcrackers. Hey George?"

"Yeah Fred," George said, getting up himself.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, as long as you actually ask me this time," George replied wryly, his mind waking up at the quip.

"Well ... do you, I mean, did you, uh, notice anything... different... about Harry, when he arrived?"

"Different? Different as in what?"

"I don't know exactly _what_, per se. He just seemed, different," Fred clumsily replied.

George looked at his brother out of the corner of his eye, trying to discern exactly what he had meant by 'different'. George had noticed that Fred's behavior had changed over the past few weeks, though it seemed no one else in the family was aware of the change. He had had no idea what had triggered the transformation, but with this new information, he thought he had a pretty good idea.

"You ever think the difference was with yourself and not Harry, Fred?"

"What?" Fred exclaimed, feeling his face flush. "Something different with _me_? What are you talking about, George?"

"Well, I have noticed a change in you. Lately, you've been a bit unsure of yourself, like the last time you wanted to ask me something and you ended up not. We've never not been able to tell each other anything."

"Umm..." Fred mumbled, turning back around to find a pair of shorts. "Yeah, I guess I've been kind of, thoughtful about things recently. I don't know why, but I've found myself trying to choose my words more carefully, um, especially around Harry. And I thought maybe it was because there was something different with him..." Fred trailed off, digging deeper into this than he thought he would have liked. But there was no changing what he had said, and he knew George would try to help. He'd always been the more supportive of the two.

George walked over and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, turning him around so that they were face-to-face. He saw embarrassment on Fred's cheeks and confusion in his hazel eyes. "It's okay to be confused," George consoled. "And there's no reason you have to figure this out on you own, you know that." Fred limply nodded. "So don't be afraid to talk to me about any of this." Again Fred nodded, and happiness began to fill him at the prospect of figuring this out with someone else's help. He gave his brother a smile and decided to tell him about everything he knew, which really wasn't much. But it would help all the same.

"Well," Fred began, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He told his brother how he had noticed some unidentifiable difference in Harry and how the boy had been on his mind ever since he had walked through the door. George listened intently, sitting on the desk chair he had pulled up in front of his brother. "And I couldn't make sense of any of it, so I pretty much just gave up trying to figure it out. That is, until Ron mentioned Harry's birthday a week ago, and then I began to wonder what I should get him. But then I thought, should I even give him something? Would it be weird if a present came that was only from one of us? We always give gifts together." George nodded in agreement, but didn't say anything, so Fred continued. "I finally decided a few days ago that I _would_ get him something, but now I've been wondering exactly _what_ I should give him. And all this thought being put into a present brought back thoughts of what exactly my feelings are. I mean, there has to be something different there, in him or me, or this whole deliberation over a simple bloody birthday present wouldn't be there."

Again George nodded in agreement, but this time he decided it was time to say something. "So, would it be so bad if you had feelings for Harry that were something other than friendship?"

Fred looked at him, thinking about the question. "No...No it wouldn't. Except, I don't think Harry..."

"It doesn't matter what Harry feels at the moment," George cut in. "We're trying to figure out what your feelings are at the moment. We can worry about Harry later." Fred gave an unsure smile, but continued.

"It wouldn't be bad. I've never felt like this about boys before, but I've never had any problems with anyone else who was gay. I mean, Lee's our best friend."

"Exactly, so the only thing I think you should being worrying about is that birthday present, and even that shouldn't be too hard to figure out."

"I wanted to give him something a little more personal, but I didn't know how that would look if I didn't know what my own feelings were."

"But you do know what they are now."

"Yeah, thanks to you."

"Don't mention it."

"But even though I feel okay with it, I don't know if I want everyone to know just yet."

"So, does everyone else need to know about your present? You could always give it to him alone."

"Yeah, I guess I never really thought of that. Bit thick, aren't I?"

"Sometimes, but I can overlook it in this case," George smiled. "So what were you thinking on getting...?"

OOOOO

Okay, so there's chapter one. Hope you liked it, and please review. There's more to come! And to those who're reading my other ongoing fic, I haven't given up on it, so don't panic!


	2. Harry's Present

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry or Fred or George, though I sure feel the liberty to manipulate their lives as I feel that JK could have made it a bit more interesting.

OOOOO

Fred went downstairs an hour later, George trailing behind him. They were both in a good mood of understanding and Fred felt especially well as George had promised to come with him to shop for a present for Harry. They were going to Apparate over to Scrivenshaft's in Hogsmede after dinner.

When they got to the bottom of the landing, they could smell their mother's cooking and immediately their stomachs let out a low rumble. They made their way to the kitchen and plopped down into chairs opposite each other.

"Well, good morning boys! It's nice to see you up so early! It's only 6:30, your father won't even be home for another hour."

"Hi Mum," they replied in unison.

"So I'm guessing breakfast won't be ready for a while then?" Fred asked.

"I'm afraid you're right," Mrs. Weasley replied. Fred's stomach gave a disapproving grumble. "But I can hear that you won't be able to hold off that long. Here, have some biscuits." Mrs. Weasley set a plate of warm fresh biscuits in the middle of the scrubbed wooden table, always ready for the hunger pains of her teenage boys with something warm.

"Thanks, Mum," George said before reaching for the plate.

"Eah, pahnks," Fred managed through a mouthful of biscuit.

At 7:29, the Weasley's grandfather clock moved it's 'Arthur' hand from work to travel to home, and a minute later, the man himself walked through the kitchen door. "Morning boys," he said rather cheerily for being out all night. "Pleasure to see you up so early!" He walked over to his wife and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Morning Dad," they said, stopping the conversation they were having over who was going to de-gnome the lawn today.

"Well, we're rather cheery today Arthur," Molly said, a rather large smile on her face.

"Yes we are, and for good reason. We had a rather productive night, Molly. Eight more leads in the Renclyff case."

"Boys," Molly cut in over her husband. "Go and wake everyone else up," she said, levitating food over onto the table.

The boys got up, wanting to hear more of what their father had to say, but knowing that there was arguing with their mother once she'd told you to do something. There were only a few people who had any power over Molly Weasley, and even then it wasn't much.

At the top of the stairs, they split, Fred going to wake Ginny and George to Ron and Harry. George walked through the door quietly and walked over to his little brother's bed. Ron had the covers pulled up over his head and could be heard snoring loudly through the orange material. George shook his head and turned around to face Harry.

The boy was lying there on his side; the white sheet grasped in his hand and pulled up to his chin. He was breathing softly, and George could see on his face that he was having a peaceful dream. George bent over Harry, his eyes remaining on the peaceful smile that was spread across his lips. They looked like such soft lips, not at all dried out by the night's sleep. Soft, and probably warm…almost inviting… George's thoughts trailed off for a moment until a loud hitch in Ron's snoring snapped him back to reality. He shook his head slightly. Harry's lips, what an… interesting…. thought.

George proceeded to wake both Harry and his brother up, the former with little difficulty compared to the latter. Within half an hour, everyone was downstairs and tucking into a breakfast of toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and waffles. Mrs. Weasley seemed to have decided that the Renclyff case wasn't too serious of a case, as that was the main topic of discussion. Everyone listened intently as Mr. Weasley told of the suspected Death Eater and his supposed whereabouts.

An hour and forty minutes later, everyone save Molly and her husband had vacated the kitchen. Ginny had returned upstairs to work on homework, after much protest from the boys, as they were to outside and de-gnome the garden.

It was hard work, as always, but they all had fun whipping the little buggers into the hills behind the house, and around noon the boys returned to the house sweaty and thirsty. Mrs. Weasley was ready for them, and ushered them back out the door and onto the cool grass under the shade of the enormous willow, handing over a tray of cool spiced pumpkin juice and cookies before heading back to the house to continue her never-ending cleaning.

They sat, relaxed and enjoying the cold juice, the glasses gathering condensation fast. There was little conversation until Harry said, "I like pumpkin juice, but nothing's really better than lemonade in summer."

The Weasley boys were puzzled by this comment, having no idea what lemonade was. "Lemonade? What's that, Harry?" Ron asked.

"You mean to tell me that there's no lemonade in the Wizarding World?! How can there be pumpkin juice but no lemonade?"

"Nope, never heard of lemonade before, Mate," George replied. "You could always enlighten us as to what this fabulous Muggle drink is."

They all turned their attention to Harry as he began to explain that it was a drink made with lemons, as they had all quite figured out by themselves. As Fred's ears listened, his eyes began to take in Harry. He sat there, no longer leaning against the tree and seated next to Ron. He had set his drink down as he was explaining things with his hands like he usually did, and Fred found the lively expression in his eyes and waving hands cute. To be so animated over explaining a simple drink…. It was simply Harry, and Fred found himself simply adored by it.

Fred's gaze drifted down, and adoration turned to something lustier in nature. Harry was as sweaty as the rest of them, the dark wetness reaching from his neckline almost to his navel. His shirt was white, causing the damp cloth to be practically see-through, and it clung to his tight chest and upper abs.

Fred gave a little gulp and moved his gaze back up, away from Harry's chest. But this offered him no comfort as he noticed Harry's dripping hair and glistening visage. Fred watched as a bead of sweat rolled down off a tendril of clinging hair and onto Harry's face, then traveled the length of his cheek until it reached the tip of his small squared chin, where it clung for a moment before falling to the ground.

Fred gave an even harder gulp and tried to concentrate on what it was that Harry was saying, instead of on Harry himself. It was almost impossible, but he managed when he saw George staring at him, a wry smirk fixed upon his lips. Fred's cheeks flushed and he wrinkled up his face in snide dislike as a small child would.

The rest of the day passed by quickly enough, the boys each in turn taking a shower to wash the sweat from their bodies, then going off to play two-on-three Quidditch matches with Ginny.

After dinner, everyone split up again; Mrs. And Mr. Weasley and Ginny to the living room, Ron and Harry outside to do Astronomy homework, and Fred and George to their room. Before they headed up the stairs, they bewitched the clock so that their hands would remain on the word 'Home.'

Soon they were standing outside the lit windows of Scrivenshaft's, and they immediately entered the bright little shop. It had been a hot day, but now that the sun had gone down, there was a nippy breeze blowing.

The shop filled with all quills, inks, and magical erasers and reveallers imaginable. Fred moved to the self-inking section and began to look at all the different colors and feather styles, trying to decipher which Harry would like best. George wandered the store as his brother searched, wondering if he should get something himself. He'd always wanted a Quick-Quotes-Quill for easy, hands-free formula recording.

After looking at them and deciding that a Quick-Quotes was out of his budget range right now, George ambled over to his brother to see how he was coming along. Fred had in front of him two quills, and he was scrutinizing them with a thoughtful eye. One was a long straight feather, the core purple and the edges silver. The other was a bit fluffier, and it was alternating colors of azure and black.

"So," George said coming up behind his brother, startling him so that he have a little start. "Which one is it? I rather prefer the purple myself."

"Hmmm, yeah, I was thinking that one too." Fred put the blue quill back up on the shelf with the others of its kind. "K, let's go."

They walked up to the counter together and Scrivenshaft wrung up the price. "One Galleon, please."

"A Galleon?" George asked, a little taken aback by the amount.

"Yes," Fred replied as he handed over the gold coin. "Is there something wrong with me spending a Galleon of my own money?" Fred took the red cardboard box Scrivenshaft handed over.

"No," George said as they left the store. "It's just a bit more than we've ever spent on a gift before. But I know this is different, and it's a beautiful quill. I'm sure Harry will love it."

Fred looked over at his reassuring brother and gave him a smile in thanks. They stood a moment, and then disappeared into the air.

ooooo

The six days passed by quickly, too quickly in Fred's opinion. The day of Harry's birthday arrived and they all celebrated with an extra large dinner and a double-layer cake with green frosting to match Harry's eyes. Harry had pulled 16 little colored candles out of his pocket and had stuck them into the top cake, lit them, then proceeded to blow them out, much to everyone's confusion and amusement.

He'd received a sweater from Mrs. Weasley, "for when it gets colder," she explained; broom-handle wax from Ron, a book from Hermione that had arrived by owl; some sort of card from Ginny that had made him laugh, and fireworks from Fred and George, which he set off outside to everyone's delight.

At midnight, they all headed upstairs, said goodnight in the hallway, and went to their own rooms. Once George had closed the door, Fred fished the red box out of the top drawer of his dresser. He turned around, nervous as hell and trying to hide it.

"You'll be fine," George said, giving him a slight pat on the back. "I just saw him go into the bathroom. Why don't you go wait for him to come out?"

Fred nodded but didn't move, and George gave him a little shove toward the door. Fred gave one look back at his brother, who gave a little nod, and he walked out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

He stood leaning against the wall, waiting for Harry to come out into the hallway. After five minutes, Fred heard the doorknob turn and his heart skipped a beat. He watched as Harry walked out and closed the door behind himself, not noticing that Fred was standing there. He began to walk down the hallway, and stopped when he looked up and noticed Fred. They were three feet away from each other, and Fred saw that Harry was wearing his tank and shorts pajamas, his clothing from the day tucked under his right arm.

"Hey Fred. Bathroom's free now, so go ahead. G'night," Harry said and he began to move past him.

"N-no. Wait, Harry," Fred said before he could get any farther away. Harry turned to face Fred. "I wanted to, um, give you a, um, present. A birthday present." Fred held out the red box to Harry, who looked at it a bit quizzically.

"But you already gave me something, Fred. I really wasn't expecting anything else."

"I wanted to, um, give you something on my own, without George's name on it too. You know, just from me." Fred was gaining confidence and his stuttering began to let up a little.

"Oh," Harry said. He took the box from Fred's outstretched hand. "Thanks." Harry began to open it, first undoing the little red ribbon Fred had tied around the box, then lifting the lid to sift through the thin tissue paper inside.

A small intake of breath escaped Harry as he pulled out the quill, causing Fred's heart to speed up and chase away to confidence he had earned only a minute before. Harry twirled the quill between his fingers, his eyes alight.

"It's beautiful, Fred. You really didn't have to." He lifted his up and met with Fred's, causing him to blush pink.

"I wanted to. I noticed the other day when you were doing your homework that you were on your last quill and that it was kind of old and torn and I thought you could use a new one. It's self-inking. I hope you like the color. I…"

Fred would have continued to babble on but he noticed that Harry was closer then before, and he closed his mouth in surprise.

"I really like it, Fred. I can't believe you noticed that I needed a new quill. And the colors are really handsome."

Fred's heart skipped another beat and he was sure that his heart would stop altogether soon.

"But you want to know what else is handsome? Harry asked, looking directly into Fred's eyes.

"…"

"You are when you're nervous." Harry closed the gap between them, lightly pressing his lips to Fred's. They were soft and warm and rather inviting, and Fred leaned in a little, not one to waste such a pleasant invitation. Harry lingered for a moment, then pulled back. He smiled at Fred. "Thank you again for the present," he whispered, and then he turned around and walked softly to Ron's room and went inside, giving Fred one last look before closing the door.

Fred stood there, a bit shell-shocked, until realization swept over him. Harry had liked the present! Hell, forget the present, Harry had kissed him! Fred hadn't imagined that anything like this would have happened, and here it had!

He turned and almost ran into the door. Shaking his head, he opened it and went inside to one of the most sleepless nights of his life.

OOOOO

There you go, chapter 2. And please don't expect me to update as often as this, it's just that I'm on a roll here and I can't stop, because I know that if I do, it'll take me a week or so to update. I try to every couple of days, update that is. I really hoped you like this and that you continue reading! Please review! It's not hard, I swear!


	3. Hogwarts Letters

Disclaimer:I don't own Harry Potter and all that jazz. Come on, you should know this by now people.

ooooo

Fred slept in late, as was usual for him over summer, and the sun was already visible over the hilltops when George finally woke him.

"I think Mum'll be wanting us down for breakfast soon," George said as he gave Fred a little shake. "It's almost seven."

George sat down on the end of his brother's bed and watched him roll over, stretching and yawning. "Mmmm, seven, already?" Fred asked. He sat up and looked at his sibling.

"Have a good night?" George asked with a smile, knowing how gleeful Fred had been when he'd finally fallen asleep last night. They'd stayed up late talking-conversation being mostly one-sided on Fred's part-until Fred's eyes had finally closed from sheer exhaustion. But George hadn't minded. He was happy that his brother was finally back in good spirits.

"Yeah," Fred replied with a shy smile. "It was, great, actually. But I should think you would know that."

"Never hurts to ask. Who knows, you could have some kind of nightmare."

"Yeah, like what?"

"Like what if Ickle-Ronnikins has already broken in your little lover," George said with mock concern.

"Wh-what?! What the hell did you just say?!"

"I mean, we don't know what does on behind that door when they close it at night. And if Harry's known about his own sexual tendencies, they may have..." Fred didn't allow George to finish his sentence, as he threw a pillow at his head. George dodged in time and came back unharmed.

"Now why would you do that," he asked chuckling. "I was only answering a question."

"Oh, come off it!" Fred's face was flushed with embarrassment and shock, and George could see that he was a little worried.

"You know I was only joking. I really don't think Ron would be into anything like that. Remember last year when he saw Lee holding hands with Fitzgerold? He freaked."

Fred thought back to last year, and recalled his younger brother's reaction to Lee's display. "Yeah, he did." Fred relaxed, thinking how stupid he was to have thought that there could have been any merit to what George had suggested. It was just that when George had suggested that Harry had been with anyone else… To the extent of Fred's knowledge, Harry had only ever had one relationship; the one he had had last year with Cho. And according to not only Ron and Hermione, but Harry himself, it hadn't been much.

"Wanker," Fred smiled, throwing a pillow at his brother.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going to get myself some breakfast." With that, George got up from the bed and walked over to the dresser, pulling his shirt off along the way. Fred pulled himself up and joined his brother, and in five minutes they were making their way down the winding staircase to join the rest of the family in the kitchen.

Mr. Weasley was walking through the door just as Fred and George were taking their seats at the table. He greeted them all with a somber face and sat down, sandwiching himself between Ginny and Ron. The family looked at the grim expression on his face with concern, but no one said anything. If their father wanted to talk about it, he would bring it up himself.

"So, how's the homework coming kids," he asked with as good a smile as he could muster. They all managed to mumble something to the extent of 'okay' and began the meal in as relaxed a setting as the meager conversation would allow.

It was another hot and lazy day, and prompted by Mr. Weasley's question, everyone decided it would be best to work on the assignments they had been given over the summer. After retrieving books, quills, parchment, and ink from their trunks upstairs, everyone found a spot out under the shade of some benevolent bush or tree to begin the odious task.

"Harry, where'd you get that quill," Ron questioned when he saw Harry pull out the present he had received the previous night. "I've never seen you use it before."

"Um," Harry stalled, not knowing whether or not he should tell Ron where the quill had come from. Harry's eyes darted over to Fred, who had snapped to attention once he had heard Ron ask the question and was now looking at Harry, panic in his eyes. He hadn't thought that something like this would have come up so soon, and before he was even sure of what he had with Harry. Fred didn't know what to say, though he doubted whether he could have actually gotten anything past the lump that had formed in his throat.

Harry, seeing the desperate look on Fred's face that even he wasn't aware of, decided that it wasn't the best time to be truthful. It'd be nice to know what his relationship with Fred was before he tried to explain it to anyone else.

"I bought it last year," Harry lied with as much indifference as he could muster.

"Oh. Then, why were you using that ratty old quill the other week when you had this one?" Ron always picked the most inconvenient times to be observant. George just shook his head, an innocent spectator with a small smile playing on his lips.

"I forgot that I'd even bought it and found it again today when I was digging around for my Potions Book," Harry said with a shrug.

"Sounds like something I would do," Ron chuckled, then turned to his work.

Harry gave Fred a sidelong glance, and he grinned at the obvious relief that was present on the redhead's face. He giggled and started on his own work, thinking how cute someone could look when worry was lifted from their shoulders.

Fred gave a sigh of relief, and blushing, smiled back at Harry. For all the lying he'd done over the years, Fred wasn't sure that he'd have been able to handle that, and he was in awe of Harry for it. Just one more thing to love about him.

George gave no outward sign of feelings, but inwardly, he felt relief for his brother and applauded Harry for his duplicitous behavior. To George, Harry had seemed rather, engaging, wile spinning the falsehood. _Hmmm,_ he thought.

ooooo

August drew on, bringing with it seemingly endless rain that kept everyone inside. In such close quarters, it was hard for Fred and Harry to be alone, but they made sure take advantage of any situation that presented itself. Most often, they met at night, Harry coming into Fred and George's room after Ron had fallen asleep. It wasn't exactly solitude, as George usually stayed with them, but that was at their own decision. He was, after all, the only one who knew about their relationship.

Their nights were typically filled with talk, covering both common and personal topics. George was always welcome to join in, and he put in his own two cents at least once a night, sometimes holding as much of the conversation as the other two. They shared embraces and light kisses, not embarrassed at all in front of their third wheel. He, in turn, didn't mind either, and sometimes watched a little too closely as his brother locked lips with the bespectacled boy. But George kept this private.

On the morning of the twentieth, a number of owls bombarded the kitchen window with letters from Hogwarts. Mrs. Weasley handed everyone their respective letter, and listened as they recited the books that they would need from the lists.

"Well, what about you two," Mrs. Weasley questioned Fred and George.

"You don't have to buy us anything, Mum," George replied. "All the books here are already upstairs."

"Well, that's a relief, though having you both go back to school for an eighth year is not something I'm proud of." The twins exchanged glances. "And you shouldn't be proud of it either!"

ooooo

Thank you to **MooneyAndPadfoot4eva** for reviewing!


	4. Ice Cream, Trains, and New Dorms

**Disclaimer:** Damn copy write rights… which I don't own for Harry Potter.

ooooo

"Come now, everybody out," Mrs. Weasley bustled. She hurried her family out of the kitchen and into the living room, having trouble tearing her youngest son away from the buttered biscuits. "You ate enough, Ron! We don't have all day for this; your father needs to be at the Ministry at one o'clock."

"Mum, that gives us four and a half hours," Ron protested. "And does it really matter if Dad isn't there?"

Mrs. Weasley gave her son a stern look and then turned to the fireplace. "I feel more secure with your father there, Ronald, and I won't have you arguing with me." She turned back around, a flowerpot full of green powder in her hand. "Now, line up. Fred and George first, yes, there you go. Harry dear, you go after George, and then Ron can go fourth." She watched as George disappeared into the green flames.

Harry stepped up, took some of the powder in his hand, and then walked over to the glowing fire. He threw the shimmering dust and stepped into the augmented flames, saying the words 'Diagon Alley' to the brick flue. He began to spin, and Mrs. Weasley's voice grew more and more blurred and incoherent before a great rushing noise flooded over him and blocked out everything else. He spun faster, everything blurred, and in a moment Harry found himself standing in front of an unfamiliar fireplace. Harry felt Fred take his hand and he was pulled off to the side where George was standing.

"Gotta get you out of the way, Harry," George explained. "Don't want Ron falling on top of you, now do we?" He raised his brow in question, smirking at his brother. Fred rolled his eyes and gave a little sneer, invoking a laugh from George. Harry stood confused, not understanding any part of the exchange that had just taken place, but grateful that he had been pulled out of the way; Ron had just appeared in the spot he had been occupying seconds before.

"You made it this time, Harry," Ron joked, coming over to his best friend and older brothers.

Seeing Ron, Fred realized that he was still holding Harry's hand and he immediately let go. Harry looked at him with sad eyes, but the understanding smile he wore reassured Fred; both of them would have loved to remain as they were, but it would have raised unwanted and awkward questions. Harry moved to make room for Ron in their circle, stepping close enough to Fred that their arms were touching. Fred's heart beat at the contact, and he couldn't help a smile from speeding across his face.

Harry looked around, and saw a number of fireplaces lining three of the four walls that made up the small square room. "Where are we? I've never been here before."

"That's because you ended up in Knockturn Alley last time," Ron answered Harry.

"Yeah, I remember."

"This is where the Floo Network opens to Diagon Alley."

"It's just a room full of fireplaces."

"Of course it is! What else would you need? It's just for transport for those who can't or don't want to Apparate. Speaking of, why didn't you two?"

"Why didn't we what, Ron," George asked.

"Apparate. Why didn't you just Apparate here?"

"Because everyone else was taking the Floo."

"You never do things just because it's what everyone else is doing."

"We thought a little change would be fun, but all this grieve you're giving us is ruining it."

"What are you ruining now, Ron," Ginny asked. She laid a hand on his shoulder and looked up at him with a smirk. "You're always ruining everybody's fun."

"Shut up, Ginny." Ron's cheeks colored and he brushed his sister's hand from his shoulder.

"Aw, play nice, _Ronikins_," George snickered.

"George, stop it," Mrs. Weasley broke in. "Honestly, you would never know that you were of age. Now, let's go!" She hurried out of the room, her husband at her side and her children in-tow.

Three hours later, they had purchased all the necessary books, quills, bottles of ink, rolls of parchment, and potions supplies, and were headed to the second hand robe shop to buy Ginny and Ron new robes, when George said he was leaving to go do some shopping of his own. Mrs. Weasley protested, not wanting any of her children off on their own.

"I don't need new robes, so why should I wait around wile you pole around through all these old robes?"

"Molly, he's seventeen, just let him go," Mr. Weasley had argued.

"Fine," Mrs. Weasley dejectedly gave in. "Just meet us in an hour so we can leave together."

They began to enter the shop, but George held Fred back. "You know, Harry doesn't need new robes either," he said with a wink.

Fred watched his brother walk down the street and disappear around the corner. A small grin played across his face and he entered the shop. Fred searched out Harry amongst the racks of used robes and found him absently looking at a number of deep blue dress robes. He whispered in Harry's ear and a smile of his own spread across Harry's face. He followed Fred and they walked over to where Mrs. Weasley was helping Ginny pick through a long wrack of black school robes.

"Mum, Harry and I are going to leave too. We'll be back in an hour."

Mrs. Weasley gave a sigh. "Alright, go. Ginny, this one looks right. Go put it on. Just be careful, Fred. And you too, Harry."

"Bye Mum."

"Goodbye Mrs. Weasley."

As soon as they were out of the shop, Harry turned to Fred. "So, where are you taking me?" Fred blushed at the question.

"You make it sound like a date."

"It isn't," Harry questioned, casting his eyes up at Fred as he put a pout on his face. Fred's face burned and he looked away.

"Well, I guess you could call it a, a date," Fred stumbled over the words. He turned back to Harry, saw that his pout had been replaced by a smile, and couldn't help but smile himself. If it was a date, it would be their first one.

"So, where do you want to go on our date?"

"I thought _you_ were taking me somewhere."

Fred thought a moment. "Is ice cream okay?"

"Ice cream sounds great."

Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor was on the other end of Diagon Alley, and the walk there took longer than it normally would have. Fred, his mind still swimming with the thought that this was their first date, had inadvertently quickened his pace, leaving Harry a few steps behind him. Harry, seeing that Fred's nervousness was the reason for their separation, had skipped forward and took Fred's hand in his own. Fred had been surprised by the open gesture, but squeezed Harry's hand in approval just the same. Their pace now one, they had strolled down the street leisurely, looking at everything the numerous shops had displayed behind their large windows.

Florean greeted them when they entered, and he personally scooped them cones of chocolate licorice and butterbeer. When Fred tried to pay for the ice cream, Florean refused the Knuts, insisting that there was no need to pay. Fred gave up and put the money away, still embarrassed by the kindly gesture. They thanked Florean and left to sit outside under the yellow and white stripped awning.

"Does he always do that," Fred asked Harry.

"Yeah, though I'm not sure why. He always refuses my money."

"Hmm." Fred licked his butterbeer-flavored ice cream.

"I remember the summer before my third year, when I was staying at the Leaky Caldron, I would come here almost every day and he would give me free sundaes. It was probably the only thing that kept me sane, being here with nothing to do."

"All the shops not enough to keep you entertained?"

"There's only so much one can buy."

Fred looked at Harry, and he wondered what it would be like to be able to buy practically anything you wanted. He guessed that it must have showed on his face, because Harry hurried to apologize.

"Oh, I didn't mean that, Fred. It's just, you know… money isn't everything. Some people may think that it is, but I don't." Harry buried himself in his chocolate licorice.

"I know you didn't mean it like that, it's just that I wonder sometimes, you know. And I know that don't care about money. If you did, why would you be out with me?" Fred laughed, and Harry couldn't help but laugh along with him.

Their laughing died down and fell into a hush. They sat for a few peaceful minutes, enjoying the cool treat and the presence of the other.

"I've never had chocolate licorice," Fred said, breaking the silence. "Does it taste any good?"

"Mmm… yeah. It's really chocolaty. You wanna try some?"

Before Fred could answer, Harry held out his cone for him. Fred leaned forward and licked the dark brown ice cream, the thought that Harry's tongue had been doing the same thing only moments before the only thing on his mind.

"I like it."

Harry grinned. "I see that. You have chocolate on your face."

"What? Where?"

Harry leaned closer. "Right there, below your lip. Wait…" He moved forward and took Fred's mouth in his. They kissed deeply, and Fred tasted the chocolate on Harry's tongue. As they began to pull apart, Harry softly bit Fred's bottom lip, running his tongue over the skin that had been covered in chocolate.

"Mmmm, butterbeer-flavored kisses are nice." Harry smiled and licked his ice cream. "I'm looking forward to more of them."

ooooo

The rest of August flew by quickly, and before anyone realized it, it was September first and they were all piling into the Ministry cars parked outside. The ride was brief, and Fred shortly found himself gazing upon the scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express. They waved goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and moved to the nearest car.

As soon as they had boarded the train, Ginny left to find friends and Ron left for the Prefect's compartment, informing Harry that he would be back with them as soon as he could break away.

Standing there next to Harry and George, Fred realized for the first time what it really meant to be back in school for another year. There was no other student-save George-that was in his year, no other compartment full of friends that he could go to. Fred felt lonely, knowing that all his friends had jobs and he had another year of school to get through. If he already felt like this, before the train had even left, what would the whole year be like? But then he felt Harry take his arm, and he knew that even though his friends had moved on, this was going to be his best year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

ooooo

George stared out the window, watching the trees pass by as the sky darkened from the setting sun. He was holding a light conversation with Fred, who was gently stroking Harry's hand. Harry himself was asleep, his head resting on Fred's shoulder, a content smile on his face. George heard a knock at the compartment door, and it slid open to reveal Hermione and Ron, dressed in their school robes, their prefect's badges shining in the candlelight. George glanced over at Fred and met with nervous eyes.

"Hello Fred, George," she said, coming in and sitting down. "And Harry's asleep? Well, at least you're all in your robes already. What are you doing Ron? Come in here and close the door."

Ron walked through the threshold and tenuously sat down. He looked at Fred, who had stopped rubbing Harry's hand, but still held it in his lap.

"I'm supposed to tell you two about where you'll be spending the school year," Hermione continued.

"Um, wouldn't that be _at_ the school," George answered sardonically.

"I meant _where_ in the school. If you're going to act like that I'll just leave you alone to find your own place to sleep."

"Sorry Hermione. Where in the school will we be spending the year?"

"Well, Dumbledore has had a special dormitory set up for the two of you, not far from Gryffindor tower. You still are, of course, Gryffindors, so you will be given the password to the dormitory and are allowed in any time before curfew."

"Well, that's awful nice of Dumbledore, to do that just for us."

"Yes, well, this is the first time that anyone had come back for an eighth year at Hogwarts. Every other person who's failed their N.E.W.T.s has just taken whatever job they could find and moved on."

"We like to linger. It annoys people."

"Well, I'd be ashamed if I had to stay in school another year."

"That's why we'd never work out, Hermione. We're just too different."

"Shut up, George," Ron interjected.

"Oh, I would never think of stealing your girlfriend, Ron. Didn't you just hear me?"

"Really," Hermione huffed, her face going red. She got up and opened the door, an angry look on her face. "George, I really wonder at you sometimes!"

Before she left, Hermione turned to Fred, a smile on her face. "Tell Harry when he wakes up that the password is Poison Apple." She stalked out the door, and Ron got up to follow her. He sneered at George, then looked at Harry and Fred, his expression unreadable. When the door closed behind him, George turned to Fred.

"Well, I guess they know now."

"Yeah," Fred meagerly said. He resumed rubbing Harry's hand, but this time it was more for his own comfort than out of love for the sleeping boy.

"It'll be alright."

"I hope so." Fred closed his eyes and leaned his head so that it rested on Harry's. "I hope so."

ooooo

I'm sorry that I made you wait so long, so I made sure it was twice as long as normal. I want to say thank you to** angelkat2502**, **Marie L.**, and **fifespice** for reviewing.

**angelkat2502**, I'm glad to please you with my pairing! I couldn't really find many fics with Harry and one or the other of the twins, so I decided to write one myself!

**Marie L.**, I don't think I'll get into a threesome with this fic, but I have, um, twists waiting to be employed. It's hard to write a response, I don't want to ruin anything! But I have an idea for a different fic that would involve a threesome, but don't be expecting it too soon.

**fifespice,** thank you for reviews for each chapter! And yes, problems with George ahoy!

And of course thanks to Hobbit, a.k.a. ijrooney for beta-ing for me!


	5. Ron and the Quidditch Captain

**Disclaimer**: there's always got to be a disclaimer.

The night was clear as everyone filed off the train at the Hogsmeade station. Hagrid stood to the side of the throng, shouting the usual greeting to the first years. As the new students went to meet him, everyone else followed the path up to the thestral-drawn carriages that stood waiting for them.

After disembarking together, Fred, George, and Harry met up with Ron and Hermione, and the five of them made their way with the rest of the crowd.

"I want to ride with Ron and Hermione," Harry whispered in Fred's ear as they walked along. "I didn't get to see them the whole ride here."

"Yeah, sure," Fred replied. Harry smiled then turned away, beginning a conversation with Hermione.

Fred was fine about sitting with Hermione, but he wasn't so sure about Ron. He knew he would have to deal with his younger brother sooner or later, but right now he would rather it be later.

Once they'd made their way up to the platform, Ron immediately moved to the nearest carriage, Hermione and Harry still in the thick of conversation and right behind him. All three of them hopped in through the open door, but when Fred got up to the little wheeled box, he noticed that someone else was already occupying the forth seat. Harry gave him a forlorn look and began to get up, but Fred just shook his head with a smile and jestured for Harry to sit back down. "S'ok," he said before turning around to join George in the next carriage.

Neither Fred nor George knew the two girls that shared the coach with them. They wore the colors of Ravenclaw and looked to be in their fifth year, but the boys didn't remember seeing them anywhere inside the castle during previous years. The ride was quiet, the girls whispering softly to themselves as if what they spoke of were secrets from the Department of Mysteries itself. The twins remained completely silent, leaving only their eyes to convey their thoughts. But that's all they really needed.

ooooo

Harry sat, wondering who the Hufflepuff sitting next to him was and how much longer the ride was going to be. He was gloomy that his wanting to sit with Ron and Hermione had forced Fred to take another carriage, and it was made even worse by the fact that none of them were speaking.

Harry looked out the window, and as the coach made its way up the sloping path to the castle, he watched the waning moon disappear behind the tall trees of the Dark Forest. He sensed that he was being watched and turned around in time to see the Hufflepuff quickly avert his eyes. But Ron's remained on him, with a scrutinizing look the likes of which Harry had never seen on his best friend before. Harry couldn't hold his gaze and turned to Hermione, who looked once between the two and gave a sigh.

"So, Harry," Hermione began. "Now that Angelina's gone, does that make you Quidditch captain?"

"Maybe," he answered, glad for the conversation, meager as it was. "Fred and George have been on the team longer than I have so one of them could be captain."

"Oh."

"We'll just have to wait 'til tomorrow. McGonagall always announces captain wile she's passing out the course schedules."

"Yeah, I remember her doing that last year now that you mention it. But do you think that you'll be captain?"

"Um, I really dunno," Harry said. "I've never really given it any thought before."

"Do you want to be captain?"

"Yeah, sure, why not. Fred or George would make good captains too..."

"Why the sudden interest in Quidditch, Hermione," Ron questioned, his tone near frosty. His eyes darted quickly to Harry, then rested on Hermione as he spoke again. "You've never been all that interested before."

"Well, Ronald, I was just making _friendly_ conversation, as it seems you're unable to." Hermione's attitude had gone from friendly to haughty and considerably irate. She gave the redhead a menacing glare before turning back to Harry with as plausible of a smile as she could pull off. Harry weakly smiled back as she began the conversation again, but for the rest of the ride he was unable to keep his mind on what she was saying, managing only feeble, half thought out answers to her questions. Ron's tongue remained silent, but his eyes spoke more than enough for Harry.

ooooo

Harry sat eating breakfast in silence. After stalking past Harry at top speed, Ron had seated himself at the other end of the table, and a few minutes later, Hermione had gone to join him. Harry had seen that she was having trouble figuring out where she should sit, and he understood why she went with Ron. Harry could see from the glances he stole down the slowly filling table that she was trying to talk to him about something that he clearly had no interest in. Her hands were waving in a fury of emotion, and she almost spilled her pumpkin juice twice.

Nearly spilt juice was not confined to Hermione's side of the table, as moments later Harry started at Fred's unseen arrival and subsequent greeting. He seated himself on Harry's right side as the other boy mopped up the porridge that had splattered form his fallen spoon.

"Sorry, Harry," Fred said tiredly. He pulled a bowl to himself. "Didn't mean to startle you like that."

"S'ok. I'm just tired is all," Harry said, making sure his eyes didn't wander back to the far end of the table.

Fred poured milk over his bran flakes. "You too? I can't remember the last time I had such a bad night," Fred lied. His night had, in fact, been horrible, but he could certainly recall the last time he'd gotten so few hours of sleep; any night from the time of Harry's arrival at the Burrow to the night before his birthday. Fred reached for the china bowl in front of him and poured sugar on his flakes before picking up his spoon.

Harry watched as the white powder absorbed the mil from beneath and became a small, shifting pile of wet opaque goo. "You always add sugar, don't you?" Fred looked at him and there was a smile on Harry's face.

"Yeah. Can't stand the stuff otherwise."

"Then why do you eat it?"

"'Cause it's good when you sweeten it," Fred replied, putting the full spoon to his mouth. As he chewed, Harry just shook his head, but his smile remained.

Fred glared at him, but Harry met and held his gaze, and soon it was all Fred could do to hold in his laughter so that the second year sitting across from them didn't have a mess all over her face.

"Good morning, Potter, Weasley," they heard a voice speak behind them. They turned to meet the professor they already knew to be standing there. Fred swallowed hard, trying to get rid of his mouthful of cereal.

"Good morning, Professor McGonagall," they said, Fred managing the words with some difficulty.

"I have your schedules here for you," she said, handing them each the piece of parchment that held their timetables. "And I am pleased to announce that you are the new Quidditch captain, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked at her, rather taken aback, and then blurted, "But Professor, Fred and George have been on the team longer than I have. Shouldn't captain go to one of them?" Fred gave Harry a puzzled look.

"Be that as it may, Mr. Potter, I chose you to be captain. I should think that you would take the honor gracefully!" Her voice had become a bit shrill, but then, it always did.

"Um, yeah, thanks Professor."

Their conversation over, McGonagall moved on to the next schedule and the next student. Fred turned back to Harry.

"You don't want captain?"

"It's not that I don't, I just thought that she would have picked either you or George."

"I don't think she even likes the idea of us being here at school again. I doubt she even _considered_ one of us for Quidditch captain."

"That does sound like McGonagall. Doesn't really care for the two of you, does she?" Harry looked at Fred. "Uh, no offence."

"None taken. I don't think _any_ of the teachers like us very much, except for maybe Dumbledore."

"I think they like us more than you give them credit for," George said, smiling as he reached over to grab an apple from the shining golden bowl resting in the center of the table. "That piece of our Portable Swamp that Flitwick kept around is still there, you know." He bit into the fruit's juicy flesh and stared down at them.

"Yeah, but that's definitely not enough to get one of us captain."

"Who needs Quidditch captain? Harry'll do a fine job, right mate?" George looked at Harry and winked.

"Thanks for the enthusiasm, George," Harry responded.

"Any time."

Just then, the bell rang, and a great scraping of benches on the tiled floor and bags being stuffed and thrown over shoulders deafened all other noise in the Hall. Harry and Fred got up and walked along with George to the big oak doors where they parted ways, a goodbye kiss on their minds. They sufficed with a wave and headed off to class, Harry to the dungeons and the twins to Flitwick's room on the third floor, for they needed no big commotion the morning of their first day back. And George knew that Fred would never allow such a thing without a fight.

ooooo

Not gonna give reasons or excused for the long wait, just gonna say I'm back, and so are Harry, Fred, George, and the rest of the crew. Thanks for all the reviews, even in my period of absence. But here's the part where you get to help me, 'cause I definitely need it!! So, Fred and George each received 3 O.W.L.s, but in which classes!? Please help me out by telling me which classes you think the twins actually gave two shakes about and managed to score and O.W.L. in. Thanks everyone!!!


	6. Memories of Rain

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, etc. etc. etc….

ooooo

"Potter, Weasley, a word," Snape sneered as everyone began to make their way out of the classroom. Hermione gave them a look that said 'good luck' before heading out with the rest of the class.

Snape stared contemptuously at the four boys standing before him. "Just you, Weasley," he said, pointing at Fred. Ron and George left the room, the former speeding out the door, Hermione in tow, wile the latter waited just outside it. Snape began to riffle through a pile of homework that sat on his desk and pulled out the piece of parchment that Harry had turned in only three hours before.

"Do you honestly expect me to grade this, Potter? I asked for a foot and you give me three inches." Harry said nothing. "And," Snape continued, "I'm sure a Blast-Ended Skrewt could manage better than this sprawling mess. Did your quill explode?"

Deftly, Snape produced his wand from a pocket of his robes and proceeded to touch the tip of it to a corner of the parchment. A black spot began to spread across the paper, and smoke rose freely till the sheet was engulfed in blue flame. In a matter of seconds it was gone, the only remains a few small feathers of ash that floated through the air. Harry was glad that his long, messy hair obscured his eyes, because he was sure that if Snape could see them, he would be in even deeper than he already was.

"And Mr. Weasley," Snape languidly drawled, turning his attention to Fred. "You decided to hand me," he flipped unnecessarily through the stack of papers, "nothing." Any other teacher would have expected an excuse at this point, but Fred knew that is was best to just let Snape continue. "You will both serve detention Wednesday, my office, seven o'clock." The boys nodded wile giving a 'yes professor.' "I expect this assignment next class." And with a smirk Snape added, "with an extra six inches on the origins of the curse. You may excuse yourselves." They were more than happy to oblige and promptly left the room.

Once out the door, Harry took Fred's hand and the three boys headed towards Gryffindor Tower.

As they walked along, the drizzle that had kept up all morning turned to huge drops that fell almost horizontally. Their assault on the castle walls echoed through the huge stone edifice, and George, trying not to concentrate on the hand that enveloped his brother's, let the noise take him away, back to the first time he'd heard such a storm resonate through the castle…

It was just like the storm that raged now; an early October downpour accompanied by huge bolts of lightning and loud, boisterous thunder.

They had been suffering through Double Potions when the rain had started. They quickly left the dungeon as the bell rang, happy to be rid of the most horrendous class Hogwarts made them endure-History of Magic came in close second-until next Tuesday.

"Snape's a right git," George complained as they climbed the multitude of staircases that led to the Entrance Hall. "Taking points from Lee just because he forgot his newt tail. For Merlin's sake, it's only our third potion!" Fred continued to nod as his brother ran on.

"It was such a small explosion, and I think that fuchsia becomes those Slytherins. I just wish it had hit that greasy haired…" George trailed off suddenly.

Fred looked at George and saw that he'd blanched and gone rigid. He quickly glanced around for Snape, thinking that the professor had heard what George had said and was now on the warpath for more points and a few nights detention, but the Serpent's Head of House was not mixed amongst the trickle of students-some still carrying a tinge of pink-that were making their way from the dungeons up to lunch.

His only speculation for the cause of George's fright proved wrong, Fred turned back to his brother.

"George," Fred called softly as he reached out his hand to rest it lightly on his sibling's shoulder.

George looked over, shook his head, and then smiled. "Let's go eat," he said simply, and then headed off up the last flight of stairs. Fred, a bit surprised by George's easy reply, took a moment until his brain told him that he should follow.

Fred entered the Great Hall and sat down next to George, who had already helped himself to the fried chicken and was now piling boiled potatoes onto his plate while asking Lee Jordan something about giant tarantulas.

_The only way you'd think something was wrong with him is if you'd seen him five minutes ago,_ Fred thought. _What was his problem anyway?_ A bolt of lightning streaked across the enchanted ceiling, and Fred watched as George's grip tightened on his fork. He finally relaxed his hand when the low roll of thunder that followed had ended.

Memories came back to him and Fred mentally hit himself for not realizing George's problem earlier. Fred looked over at George to find him chatting with as easy an air as he could manage, attempting to not let on that something was amiss. Fred, determined to help his brother, resolved to do the same.

The hour passed as the din that had filled the hall slowly began to fade as food settled and made drowsy the residents of the castle. Students and teachers began to slowly leave, and Fred and George, in the company of Lee, found themselves part of the lethargic crowd.

_Mission accomplished,_ Fred thought as he watched Lee rattle on, oblivious to the fact that George's nods for his continuance of the story were halfhearted at best and that his concentration seemed to completely disappear every time a roll of thunder echoed through the castle.

Later, as the crimson velvet muffled the snoring of his fellow classmates, Fred lay in bed listening to the pounding rain, unable to fall asleep with the knowledge that George was too restless to either. Thunder rolled across the grounds and Fred heard the rustling movement of bed sheets for the umpteenth time that night. Figuring that this was no way for either of them to spend the night, Fred drew back the curtains of his four-poster and shuffled the few feet over to the next bed. He slipped his hand through the soft hangings and made a place for himself on the bed. George gave no protest, though he was surprised at the intrusion.

"Hey," Fred said as he settled in. He propped a pillow against the wall and leaned back so that he was sitting upright.

"Hi." George's voice was strained, complete exhaustion filling every syllable. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Sitting in my bed. But shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Shouldn't you?" Fred asked, slightly irate. George was silent. "Sorry. I knew you weren't sleeping, so I couldn't either."

"Why?"

"Because I know why you can't sleep."

George looked away, ashamed and rather embarrassed. "I'm pathetic, aren't I," he whispered. "Old as I am, and still afraid of a thunderstorm."

"No, you're not. Everyone has something that scares them."

"So what scares you?"

"Mum." They both let out a laugh, but quickly quieted themselves when they heard a hitch in Lee's snoring.

A few minutes passed between them, silent save for a long rumble of thunder.

"How did you know I wasn't sleeping?"

"Because I know you. We've shared the same room for eleven years."

"Yeah."

"You've never been able to sleep through a storm, and you've been tense since that first crack after Potions."

"I was hoping no one would notice."

"It was kind of hard not to notice you stopping dead on the landing." Again, George answered with silence. "At first I though that Snape had heard you going on about him and was after you." George gave a snort of suppressed laughter. "But I didn't see his greasy head anywhere, and when I turned to ask you, you skipped off to the Great Hall."

"Didn't feel like skipping."

Fred's half-serious glare was lost in the dark, but George knew it to be there from his brother's muteness.

"It didn't," he said indignantly. Fred remained taciturn. "I was definitely not skipping."

"George, can we forget the skipping?"

"Sorry." After a moment's pause, George continued.

"So I was obvious and everyone knows now?"

"I don't think so. The only reason I knew something was wrong and went looking for the answer was because of what happened after Potions. When you stopped, no one seemed to notice besides me, so I think you're safe there. And Lee was too wrapped up in his story to notice the number of times you almost snapped your fork in half, he can be so absentminded, and everyone else was busy with their own food and friends to be bothered by you."

"…I feel loved."

"'Cause I meant it that way," Fred replied sarcastically

"I guess you didn't," George apologized, finally snuggling down under the covers. After a moment he said, his voice sorrowful, "I was hoping that this wouldn't happen, you having to sit in my bed just so I can fall asleep."

"It's ok, I don't mind."

"Yeah, but you can't always be here when a storm sets in."

"Well then, we'll just have to wean you off me," Fred said, the grin on his face audible in his voice. George smiled back, wanting to hug his brother for being there for him yet again, but thinking that they were too old for that, didn't. Instead he hugged his head to the pillow and closed his eyes, letting his weariness finally take over his mind.

When next the thunder sounded, it seemed distant, but if this was from the storm moving away from him or his mind drifting away from the storm, George could not tell, and he didn't care to think about it as swirling shapes began to form and engulf his increasingly unconscious mind. He felt Fred settle down next to him and they both drifted off with ease…

George found himself again staring at the intertwined hands that hung before him, his memory having left him and with it it's alleviation from his previous thoughts and hurt.

Back then, during their first year, before it, and even after, Fred had been all that George had and he was all Fred had. Now, Fred had Harry and he had no one. Being back for an eighth year meant that the friends they had grown up with were gone, leaving nowhere for George to turn to. Of course, he was still close with Fred, and Harry, Hermione, and Ron-well, at the moment, not Ron- were friends he could talk to; but not about this. None of them could know of his feelings toward Harry.

George tossed his bag onto his bed before sitting down on the red sheets. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, cradling his chin in his hands. The room was still but for the pounding of the rain on the tower walls and Fred rummaging through his trunk for something. The silence did not go unnoticed, and as soon as he found what he was looking for, Fred turned around and looked at his brother.

"You coming to lunch?"

"Yeah."

Fred gave George a scrutinizing look. "Something wrong?" His question gleaned no response and Fred let his eyes wander to the waterfall that streamed down the window. "It's not the storm, is it," he asked, his gaze snapping back to George.

"No," came the immediate reply. "Mmmm, yeah, maybe…" George trailed off. "I'm just tired is all." He gave Fred a meek smile. "I'm fine. Go on with Harry, I'll be down in a few."

Fred's trepidation about George's assertions was plain on his face, but he nodded and left the room. As soon as he met with Harry on the stairs, he was convinced that George was truly fine and resolved to save him a seat at the Gryffindor table.

The moment Fred closed the door behind him, George's head slumped, his face sliding down into his hands until they engulfed the entirety of it. He sat there, heart heavy, eyes wet, and let his thoughts envelope him in a torrent more intense than the one that raged outside.

ooooo

I'd like to say thanks to everyone who's reviewed, and who just read this after waiting for so long. I'm very sorry. It's been very hectic (my mommy died ). But things seem to be as back to normal as they'll get, and school's ending, so I'll be able to get up a new chapter soon. And I say thanks to Hobbit for beta-ing for me and all her encouragement!


End file.
